Re: Being Too Critical... Are You, On Occasions?
I think many of us can be too critical at times Art, mainly because we don't know anything about the situation, it is just a 'first glimpse' reaction.
Take the smoking at the hospital for example.
I can understand you feeling that way at first, but there can be a lot more to it.
Let me tell you a little story.
My son had a girlfriend when they were both youngsters. Then they fell out. They never lost touch though, and had an on/off relationship for next 25 years or so.
I was very fond of the gal.
When she was only young, she was at my house one day and suddenly fell and hit herself on a glass dividing door. I went to help her up but saw immediately that something was terrible wrong.
I phoned a doctor, got her in the car, and took her straight there.
To cut a long story short, they found she has MS.
The years went on, and she gradually deteriorated.
Then last spring, my doorbell went and it was my son and his on/off lady friend. After all those years and other relatonships, etc, they still kept in touch. It was lovely to see her again.
Sadly, now she was on crutches to walk though.
Soon after this visit, she had a bad fall and was admitted to hospital.
Both me and my son were visiting her there.
Then some even worse news came.
She not only had the awful MS, she now had lung cancer too.
They moved her to a hospice.
I went most days to see her as I knew her time was nearly up.
This lovely person, who'd I known since she was in her teens, was now a shadow of the girl I had always known.
I visited her daily in the hospice, and so did my son.
She would ask me to take her outside in her wheelchair for a cigarette.
I admit I was a bit shocked by this at first, but then I thought - what was the point of trying to stop her now, the damage was done, and she was dying anyway?
Why deny her that 10 minutes of pleasure and freedom at this late stage?
It wouldn't have saved her, would it.
So I would wrap a blanket around her and wheel her outside into the grounds for her fag.
We would sometimes get people staring at us, no doubt thinking much the same as you did Art, . . . . but they didn't know the story, did they. They didn't know it was too late for her now.
That lovely lass died a couple of weeks later.
I was with her that morning, and then got a call to say she had died in the afternoon.
I feel quite tearful explaining that story.